Grissom sat back in his comfortable, leather, office chair. The springs groaned in protest after years of abuse. He rolled his head back and forth satisfied to hear the tell tale clicks of the stress of the last couple of days being worked out of his neck and shoulders. The glass he held coated his hand with a layer of condensation that was refreshingly cool to the touch. As a general rule, Grissom didn't drink alcohol, but after the week he had had, Grissom had decided to make an exception. The whisky had been a present from Brass a few years ago. It had been sitting in Grissom's office mostly untouched.

Grissom took a sip of the silky fluid and enjoyed the burning trail it created down his throat and into the pit of his stomach. He had turned the lights off to counter act the massive headache that was plaguing him (not that the alcohol would do him much good in that regard). The only illumination in his office was the small lamp on his desk. Grissom looked at his desk, which was strewed with the paperwork he was avoiding. Now that the adrenalin rush had faded, the full realization about what had just happened hit him and panic started to settle in. He hadn't had the luxury for panic, Sara had been missing.

Sara. Passionate, tenacious, Sara, who had stolen his heart the first day she'd walked into his classroom. She could heal his torn heart with one glance...one smile. But she was beautiful and young. Too young for an old man like himself. She deserved someone equally young and vigorous. Someone who could fulfil every fantasy she had, who could sweep her off her feet and share everything that lay on his heart with her. She deserved more than Grissom could give her. But, God, what happened today had been a fulfilment of Grissom's worst nightmares. If Griffin hadn't been there (Though where in hell Griffin had managed to get a sniper rifle at her age Grissom didn't know.)...Grissom didn't know where he'd be right now. Most likely in the morgue...staring down at Sara's corpse.

Grissom looked up and saw Sara standing in the doorway, more beautiful than any image he could ever conjure up in his mind. She had a Band-Aid over the cut on her left eyebrow, and the swelling on her lip had begun to go down slightly.

"Hi," he said.

She leaned against the door post and said, "Hey."

"You want to come in? I've got whisky," said Grissom, the ice clinking as he raised the glass. Sara smiled, entered his office. He poured her a drink and handed it to her.

"How are you feeling?" Grissom asked.

"I'm alright," said Sara taking a sip of her drink.

Grissom looked hard at her and asked, "Are you, Sara? Are you really?"

Sara didn't look up from the glass that she held in her lap, she just shrugged and said, "You know me. I'll get over it."

"Sara," said Grissom gently, "Don't bottle it up."

Sara looked up at him and asked, "What do you want me to say, Grissom? What can you do about it in anyway?"

"I could listen," said Grissom.

"That's what a shrink's there for," Sara smirked, lifting her glass to her lips, "and I've got an appointment with one tomorrow."

"Friends are also there for that," said Grissom quietly.

"Friends?" asked Sara.

Grissom frowned slightly at her tone, "Yes, friends. Like Nick... or Hank," Grissom referring to her paramedic boyfriend.

"Hank," said Sara in a disappointed voice, "Sure."

"Are things well with the two of you?" asked Grissom.

Sara looked down into her lap and pushed her hair behind her shoulder before she gave a sad smile and said quietly, "We're fine."

"Good. Because you know," said Grissom leaning forward on his arms, "I care about what happens to you."

"You care about what happens to me," said Sara bitterly as she swallowed her drink in one gulp.

Grissom frowned, this time deeper, "Naturally, I care about what happens to you. You were, and are, one of my most talented students."

"And one of your most difficult," reminded Sara with a sarcastic smile.

Grissom shrugged and said, "Brilliance doesn't like to be chained."

Sara cracked her first small, genuine smile.

"All jokes aside, Sara," said Grissom seriously, "I've always trusted you, because you've always been there for me to trust."

"That's deep," Sara sipped at her drink.

Grissom shook his head and took another sip of his drink before he sighed and said, "Sara, I need your help."

"With what?" asked Sara.

"I need to make a decision concerning Griffin."

Sara placed her glass on Grissom's desk, and said, "Why ask me? Why not ask Catherine? Your 'Right Hand'?"

"Because you've spent more time with Griffin in the field," answered Grissom.

"Not by choice, mind you," said Sara aiming a pointed look at him.

Grissom gave a half smile.

Sara rolled her eyes, sat back in her chair and waited for him to continue.

"So what do you think of her?" he asked. Grissom leaned his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers together.

Sara looked down at her lap and pushed her brown hair behind her ear before she said, "I think...that she's fully competent at a crime scene. She obviously knows what she's doing, though her skills could use some refining. There's a unique characteristic I see in her, though."

"And that is?" probed Grissom.

"As CSIs," Sara explained, "We always go for the most extravagant solution, the most 'out there' theory. Griffin has one of the most creative minds I have ever encountered. Not only can she think outside the box she can think inside the box, and sometimes that's more useful. We're often trying so hard to see what's beyond the horizon we forget to look right in front of us."

That last comment seemed to Grissom to have a double meaning. He sat back in his chair and studied Sara for a few moments before he asked, "You're not biased are you?"

She raised an eyebrow at him in that tenacious way he loved so much.

"Are you saying this," continued Grissom, "because you truly believe this girl has talent...or because she saved your life?"

Sara looked down at her lap for a moment before she said, "Both."

"Well, at least you're honest," said Grissom.

Looking up at Grissom, Sara said, "Griffin is young, yes, but she isn't rash or quick to act. She's meticulous, analyzing each problem before she solves it. She thinks before she speaks and she speaks the truth."

Grissom smiled and said, "Wise words bring many benefits, and hard work brings rewards."

Sara frowned not recognizing the quote and hazarded a guess, "Shakespeare?"

"King Solomon, actually," said a voice behind Sara. Grissom looked up and Sara turned her head to see Griffin standing in the doorway.

"It's a proverb he wrote in the Bible," explained Griffin.

She was back in her black, leather jacket and her satchel hung across her body. She had a backpack slung across her right shoulder and she held the strap with her right hand. Her left hand was hidden in her pants pocket and her Ray Banns rested on the crown of her head.

"Well, done," said Grissom, once again impressed.

The side of Griffin's mouth tipped up slightly.

"IAB done with you, yet?" Grissom asked.

Griffin nodded and said, "I've been cleared."

"That was an impressive shot," admitted Grissom.

"Thank you," Griffin replied.

"Where did you learn to shoot a sniper rifle?" he asked.

"Here and there," Griffin said vaguely.

Grissom narrowed his eyes ever so slightly.

"You taking a trip?" asked Sara gesturing with her chin to Griffin's backpack.

Griffin nodded her head and said, "Yeah, I'm on my way back to Miami."

"Miami? Why?" asked Sara in a shocked voice.

As Griffin entered into Grissom's office she slipped her hand out of her pocket and crossed her arms over her chest.

"There is no reason for me to stay," she answered, "I came here for a job interview and seeing as how I haven't heard from the boss, I deduce that I didn't get the job. My old position is waiting for me in Miami, so I won't be left out on the streets."

Sara gave Grissom a pointed look and Grissom sighed before asking Griffin, "Do you really think you'll be an asset to this team?"

Griffin shrugged and replied, "It really doesn't matter what I think, sir."

Grissom raised an eyebrow at her and said, "Oh?"

"It only matters if you think I will make an asset. Because if you don't think so...the point is moot," said Griffin.

Sara didn't even bother to try and hide her smile, it was impossible. Grissom looked at Sara and shook his head before he gathered up an armful of files and walked to the door. He paused to in the doorway, leaned against the door and said, "Okay, kid. You're hired."

And with that he left.

Sara got up, still smiling and walked over to Griffin. Sara didn't say anything; she just reached into her back pocket and pulled out her forensics baseball cap. Sara unfolded it and handed it to Griffin.

Griffin looked down at the wrinkled cap, and then up at Sara.

Sara smiled and said, "Welcome to the team."

As Sara walked out the room Griffin looked down at the cap in her hand and grinned, because to her it sounded like, "Welcome home."

CSICSICSICSI

Sara was exhausted. It had been a week from hell and all she wanted to do was go home and take a hot shower. As she walked towards her car she silently cursed the swing shift who had taken up all the parking near the entrance, forcing her to park near the alleyway next to the lab earlier. Sara was about ten feet from her car when a strange chill ran down her back. It was the same chill she'd felt just before Lander had attacked her. Sara spun around and scanned the parking lot. The parking lot was cloaked in darkness, and of course the street lamps were all busted on this side of the lab. She couldn't see anyone, but (she wasn't sure if it was her imagination) the shadows seemed to get even darker, and slowly move towards her. Sara hurried to her car. But the cold feeling got worse, her instincts telling her to do one thing: Run.

Sara quickly tried to fish her keys from her pocket, but she was shaking so badly, her pulse racing, that she dropped them.

"Shit!" she cussed as she bent to retrieve them. At that moment, the shadows rushed at her. Suddenly, the alley was lit up in a brilliant light and the shadows fled. Sara shielded her eyes with her hands and the cold feeling left her spine. A figure stepped in front of the light and walked over to Sara.

"Are you okay?" the figure asked.

Sara breathed a sigh of relief as she saw it was Griffin, with her car behind them, the headlights on.

"Yeah," said Sara with a breathless laugh, she bent and retrieved her keys, "I just dropped my keys."

Griffin studied Sara with her fathomless dark eyes, before she nodded and stepped aside, "Okay, well get home safe. And get some rest."
Sara smiled and got into her car and drove away.

As she left Griffin turned towards the alley and squared her shoulders.

"Reveal yourselves," she said in a voice filled with authority. The shadows melted and reshaped into humanoid shapes. About half a dozen formed a circle around her. Griffin surveyed the assembly with hard eyes before she lifted her chin and spoke in a firm voice, "Here me, Servants of Darkness. This human woman is under my protection."

The shadows hissed in unison. One separated itself from the group and rushed Griffin. Quicker than lightning, Griffin drew her Glock; but as the gun left its holster in lengthened into a bolt of pure, golden light in Griffin's hand. As the shadow tried to claw Griffin's chest open, she side-stepped and slashed through the shadow with the bolt of light. The shadow melted into nothingness. Griffin looked up at the rest of the shadows.

"Anyone else?" she asked. The shadows hissed and backed up a little. "As I said, the woman is under my protection, as are the rest of her team. Any strike against them, is a strike against me."

The shadows backed up more, still hissing.

"Now," said Griffin as she hefted the bolt of light on her shoulder, "Be gone!"

And the shadows melted away.

Griffin breathed a sigh of relief. Sara was safe. At least for now...

I look forward to continuing in the next story, so keep an eye out for it. Merry Christmas.

Xxx

IronAngel 420.